


Never Forget

by edgymonsterbitch



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Exorcisms, F/M, Fucked Up, Good End, Horror, M/M, Multi, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Reader, Psychic Violence, Psychological Horror, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 01:37:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18326060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgymonsterbitch/pseuds/edgymonsterbitch
Summary: Request: Can I please have a psychic reader and her 1930s ghost boyfriend? Like shes with her friends in a abandoned house and shes the only one that can see him?Also, this got really angsty and spooky real fast. Also, it got long cuz I was on a roll.TW, blood, gore, and offensive racial descriptions of the time.





	Never Forget

“C’mon we have to look around!” Your friend insisted, making you sigh. It wasn’t even close to Halloween, so you didn’t know why she wanted to look around this creepy old farmhouse so badly. 

“I don’t know Clara,” You said, frowning slightly at the decrepit property. It looked like a shell of a once fairly cute place. It was a three-story house with a large porch adorned with decorative as well as supportive posts. The white paint of the house had mainly crumbled away, leaving little white patches on the rotting exterior siding. The roof had also seen better days, to even call it a roof would be generous. There were visible holes where the black roof had given way, making it look like a meteor shower had fallen specifically on this poor old house. Many of the windows were shattered, so every time the wind blew through the home, the tattered old drapes would flow in and out of the empty windows. 

“Oh, come on! Stop being a big baby. Or are you going to go on about your ‘spirits’ again?” Clara teased. You know she meant well, but it honestly made your stomach sink when she made fun of you for something you literally couldn’t help. 

You could ‘talk’ to spirits. Not really talk, but sometimes you felt a disorientating sensation in your head and then you could picture a person or an animal. They would then show up with various symbols or pictures to communicate their message to you. Sometimes these energies would be attached to a person or location, and usually the older the person or location, the more likely to have residual spiritual energies and spirits themselves. 

Not many people knew about your abilities, and you wanted to keep it that way. Your close family members had been skeptical at first, but over time proof of your condition had convinced them. Though, some of your friends, like Clara, were hard nonbelievers, didn’t think you were lying but thought you had some type of psychotic disorder. At first, it was a bit hurtful, but you just chose not to talk about it with your skeptic friends. 

“I just mean, I feel like I could melanoma just looking at this place,” you said, slightly joking. Clara rolled her eyes and started jogging towards the front door. Not wanting to be left alone, you ran after her, anxious grabbing onto her arm as a defense mechanism. Clara swung the front door open as it squeaked in protest. 

“What’s the story with this place?” you asked in a whisper to nobody in particular. The interior looked like a tornado had gone through it. Lamps were thrown about, light bulbs shattered within the wreckage. Couches and chairs were on their sides, the cloth ripped and the stuffing was strewn about. Rugs looked like they were clawed at and ripped. The wooden coat rack looked like it had been snapped in half like it was a toothpick. Various other items were strewn around the living room. 

You didn’t have to be psychic for this place to give a bad feeling. 

Clara walked in like she owned the place, not being cautious of all the hazards on the floor. You, on the other hand, were much more careful, trying to step on the few empty places where you could see the wooden floor through all the junk. You looked to the walls, a floral wallpaper had yellowed where it hadn’t been torn off, revealing the bare eggshell turned grey color due to the dust. 

As Clara started to walk up the stairs, you were drawn to the kitchen. The hardwood creaked as you stepped into the confining space. The countertops were caked in dust and you could already feel your nose twitch in response. 

Then, you felt a dizzying headache blossom in your forehead. You winced, your hand cradling your throbbing skull. 

Flashes of light fill your vision. You shut your eyes and shook your head. This had never happened before and you were terrified. 

Laughing, evil cackling full of sadistic intent filled your head. You opened your eyes and wished you hadn’t.

Your eyes focused on the red gleam of the knife in her hand. The woman’s face could look innocent if the expression wasn’t staring at you would a rabid expression. Laughing, she continued to laugh this screechy laugh, making your ears ring. Her sun-kissed skin had been splattered in blood and her white apron contrasted with the huge red stains at the waistline. Her bun that looked like it had been once been neatly in place was now in a tangled ball of golden hair, the front pieces sticking out in all directions, like lighting flaring out from her stormy face.

You wanted to scream to Clara, but as you got the first little squeak of a sound out, the golden-haired woman shot out her hand without the knife towards you, drawing her hand into a fist. You felt an invisible hand of iron constricts around your neck. Panic set in. You clawed at your neck trying to get the handoff, but you couldn’t wretch if off. Your vision started to get blurry as she started dragging her feet towards you.

Step, drag, step, drag, step, drag. 

She limped slowly towards you. You tried to shuffle backward but the arm around your neck keep you in place. You shook your head as much as the tight grip allowed, fearful tears running down your face.

“Aw, little piggy is cryin’. Poor baby,” The woman taunted in a southern accent that sounded slightly warped, like someone had messed with it on a sound machine. 

“All piggies have to go to the butcher sometime,” she giggled, she faced right up next to yours now. Her breath felt cold and smelled of death. As you floated in and out of consciousness you felt a piercing pain in your abdomen. You would have lurched forward and screamed in agony if you could. You hands clutched at your chest, feeling hot blood flow out. You thought this is how you would go. 

Then a voice called out, deep and masculine. You couldn’t make out the words as iron hand dropped you and the woman hissed as she disappeared into thin air. You hit the ground with a loud thud. You gasped for oxygen like a fish out of water, hands clutching at your now unmarred chest. You frantically felt up your neck that no longer felt pained or bruised. 

You frantically got to your feet, feeling up your body in disbelief that you were fine. Looking around you saw a man sitting on a dusty wooden chair with his hands in his face.

“H-hello?” You asked shakily to him. He looked up and the first thing you noticed was his eyes. One eye was a dark chocolate hand while the other was a bright emerald green. His face was sharp and nicely angled. His skin was flawless and dark and had lean muscles throughout. He wore a tattered outfit, shoes that looked extremely old and looked like they would fall apart before your very eyes. His pants were torn at the ends and his white cotton shirt was stained with dirt and sweat and buttons looked like they were missing. 

“She will always be here, that devil of a woman. Haunting me and anyone who comes to this wretched place,” he said solemnly, shaking his head. 

“Are you a spirit?” you ask, putting the pieces together as your eyes went wide. 

“Ha, I guess you could say that,” he scoffed, laughing at his own despair. 

“Why are you still here? Why haven’t you moved on?” You asked sympathetically. 

“You think I haven’t tried? No, I’m stuck here, keeping that thing at bay,” he explained as his eyes narrowed when he mentioned the woman covered in blood. 

“Did she kill you?” You ask a bit apprehensive. This was not normally how spirits would interact with you. Generally, you would get a fuzzy appersion in your head and they would show you symbols, never talking directly to you. Though at this moment, these two entities had appeared with an uncanny amount of realism. 

“Yes,” he answered in a monotone. It sounded like a touchy subject that he would rather not revisit. And considering how the woman acted towards you, you didn’t blame him. 

“Why are you stuck here? Because she killed you?” You questioned, a bit more frantic.

“That’s part of it. It’s a bit of a long story,” He said in an uneasy tone.

“I’d like to listen if you’re willing,” you said in a supportive way, flashing a small smile. The man sighed and settled his emotions.

“Well, the name’s James Smith. It would have been nice to meet you under different circumstances,” James said and held out his hand. You took the surprisingly solid hand but cold hand and shook it as you introduced yourself. He then cleared his throat and began his tale.

“It was the spring of 1930. I lost my job at the factory the past winter because of the crash. I didn’t matter that I was a damn good worker and I never once showed up late, the supervisor only saw a negro, and I was one of the first to go. That winter I went from town to town doing any work they would give me and then move to the next. Eventually, I ended up in this hell hole. The word around town was that William’s farm needed some farm hands. I jumped at the chance for work,” James paused and shook his head. 

“I worked for Mary Williams, the crazy bitch you just met. The story was that Mary’s family all died from consumption, one after the other that winter, leaving the young Mary all the land. It was me and about four other black guys who worked it. It started out normal. Look after the animals and land and in return get a place to sleep, food to eat, and a decent wage. Then, animals started going missing. We would tell Miss Williams, and she would blame us. For a time, I believed her, that maybe one of the other guys had accidentally let one of the pigs or chickens loose from time to time. Then, one of the other guys, Matthew, went missing one night. Mary brushed it off as Matthew running off with one of the girls in town, but he had never talked or had even gone back into the town since we had all been hired. I knew something was off, but all I had was this job. I had nowhere else to go, no family to go to. So I ignored what was happening and I kept working,” he said, obviously holding back his emotions.

“It was the night of a full moon and Miss Williams told me and the other guys to go to the basement of the main house after work. We all thought it was strange but did as we were told. Mary told us to go down in the basement first, so in a single file we walked down the stairs and she followed and started putting chains around the door. Jackson, who was closest to Mary asked what she was doing. The next second, I heard a wet meaty sound. I turned around and saw Jackson clutching at his chest, trying to hold back his insides from spilling out. Mary laughed and pushed him aside and he fell ten feet onto the basement floor, still alive. Poor soul,” James looked at the ground before squeezing his eyes shut and then opened them once more and looked at you with purpose. 

“Long story short, me and the two other guys tried to fight her. She was inhumanly strong and controlled some sort of otherworldly force. Moe and Jim went down with a fight and ended up breaking one her legs. Then it was just me and her. She wouldn’t say anything and just laughed. We struggled until she ended up pushing me off my feet with that force. I thought that was the end but Jackson, minutes away from death stuck his arm out and tripped her. Mary didn’t expect this and fell flat on her face, her knife coming out of her hand and landed close to me. While Mary was focused on Jackson, I ran up to her and stabbed her in the chest as hard as I could and twisted it. Her eyes turned black as she hollowed like a banshee at me. Her face then turned into a smile as she took the knife out of her chest, black blood exploding out of her chest. She stabbed me in the back before I could get away.” He said and lifted up his shirt, revealing a huge scar in his chest. 

“We died together as pools our blood mixed,” James ended his tale. You felt almost numb at this point, you were in a state of shock and terror from his horrific story.

“I’m so sorry, James,” you said emphatically, not really sure how to comfort the spirit.

“I just want this to be over. I want her to be gone so I can move on,” he explained and an idea popped in your head.

“I can help you, I can find out how to get rid of her. Just give me a few days and I’ll come back to you with a game plan, okay?” You told him as he firmly shook his head.

“Leave and never come back. You have taken a burden off my shoulders just by listening to me. Thank you. I will deal with Mary,” he said in an appreciative but urgent tone. You silently agreed as you nodded your head, went upstairs, grabbed the ever oblivious Clara, and left the house in a hurry.

You didn’t tell anyone what had happened in the farmhouse. You tried to listen to what James had said and just forget the property existed and never come back. It was extremely difficult to do so. Visions of Mary plagued your dreams, her laugh still ringing your ears. You became more anxious, always looking over your shoulder. You couldn’t live like this anymore. You researched with little rest, trying to find a way to get rid of Mary. 

With your supplies readied, you grabbed a confused Clara and went back to the farmhouse. You made Clara and yourself protective crystals. Clara called you crazy for thinking this stuff worked but thought it was cute so she kept it on. 

You stroud down to the basement with a mask of confidence. 

“What are you doing here?” The deep voice of James called out in concern. You turned around to see him standing at the top of the stairs. Your relief turned to horror as Mary appeared from behind, sinking her blade into his back once more. James cried out as you hurried around Clara to rush to James.

“The hell dude?!” Clara exclaimed as you pushed back past, unable to see or hear what was going on around her. 

James laid still on the ground, and you assumed the worst. With a war cry, you reached in your pocket and flung a glass container of holy water on the ground next to Mary, the water spraying all over here. The water burned her skin as flecks of light flashed through the wounded areas. Then you cleared your mind and recited the Latin words. 

“Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt,” you recited the latin as Mary writhed in pain shouting curses and obscenities in many different tongues.

“Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo. Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem et fortitudinem plebi Suae. Benedictus deus. Gloria patri,” You finished as Mary cried out one last time before her form crumbled into a pile of dust. 

You felt like you could finally breathe. You looked at James. Still, face down in a pool of his blood. You wanted to reach out to him, but the guilt stopped you. The very person you had tried to help, you had hurt the most. Tears started following down your cheeks as you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

“What just happened?” Clara just asked in an alarmed tone, you let out a desperate noise. She knelt down and rubbed your back, allowing you to cry it out. 

The next day you came back to the farmhouse with flowers, for James and his coworkers who were killed for a specific reason still unknown to you, but could only be rooted in evil. 

“You’re back?” 

You whipped around and saw James. No a lighter and glowing version of James. 

“Before I left, I wanted to say thanks, for everything. Maybe in the next life, things will go better?” He joked with a wide and beautiful smile. You instantly broke, rushing up to James to huge him. You could feel his energy wrap around you, a joyful feeling emerging from your chest. 

“Goodbye,” he whispered into your ear as his energy slowly dissipated. 

You would never, ever, forget James. Not for as long as you lived.


End file.
